Dear Grayson
by PrincessSparkleKitty
Summary: Damian's never written a letter before, because he always felt it was too sentimental of a thing to do. But Dick always seems to be an exception for him.
**I'm in a Dick &Dami extreme feels mood right now. I wrote this a while ago but I never got a chance to post it. This story is based off of some pictures of letters to Dick that Damian wrote that I found online. Look up 'damian's letters to dick' on Google and it should come up. I thought they were absolutely adorable so I wrote a story of what was happening when Damian wrote them. And there can never be too many Dick&Dami fluff stories XD**

 **Note: when words look like this ( -example-) that means that it's crosses out because FanFiction won't let me cross out words :\**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Dick or Damian. I just love writing about them :D**

* * *

"Damian!" I hear Drake's voice yell from my bedroom.

Right now I'm sitting on my bed strangling a pillow...Drake's pillow to be exact. Hey, if Father won't let me to it to him personally, then I'm at least going to do it to his pillow. Needless to say, but Drake has had to replace his pillows about ten times within the last month. I normally get in trouble, nothing too bad, but the look on Drake's face is totally worth it.

The reason for killing Drake's pillow this time is-...I'm not exactly sure what it is. I feel...angry, upset, sad...like I want to punch something...or some _one_...I wonder if Drake is still in his bedroom...

Grayson left about a week ago to return to his duties in Bludhaven as Nightwing. I wish he could have stayed. Is it bad that I sorta wish Father had stayed dead? Then at least Grayson would still be here, and I wouldn't have to be a Robin to an entirely new Batman...Well, technically it's the old Batman, but it's new to me. I'm _Grayson's_ Robin; not Father's.

If Father had not left then Drake would probably still be Robin, because Father liked him better. But Grayson saw something in me, something Father never saw, and actually got me to open up to him. And I don't like opening up to _anyone_.

I hear a knock at my door, and my head whips to it, "Master Damian?"

"Come in, Pennyworth." I say just as the man I consider my grandfather _(in my head only)_ comes in.

"Ah, so that's where Master Tim's pillow went. I do not understand why you must use his all the time instead of your own."

"Father would not like it if I strangled Drake, so I do it to his pillow instead." I say simply.

"Ah, I see. Are you alright?" Pennyworth asks.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?" I ask. Why does everyone here always read so much into things? Maybe I'm just strangling a pillow for fun!

"Because you have barely left your room since Master Dick's departure last week."

I shrug in response. It's true. Why would I need to? Drake and I don't exactly get along, Pennyworth is nice to talk to sometimes but not about the things Grayson and I used to talk about, and Father doesn't seem to care about me. It's like he doesn't trust me at all, and I don't like it. Maybe he should just fire me and be done with it. It's obvious that he wants to. He probably wanted to come back and work with Drake again. Not me.

If he _did_ decide to fire me and reinstate Drake, then I wonder if Nightwing could use a sidekick? I could move to Bludhaven, and it would be just the two of us. The perfect Dynamic Duo.

"Master Damian?"

"Yes?"

"I called your name, and you did not answer."

"Oh," I say, "I must've gotten lost in my thoughts."

"Hmm, I see." he says as he picks up the feathers from the floor. The pillow is not yet destroyed, but it's obviously not going to be used tonight.

"Maybe you could try writing a letter to Master Dick." I look up with a confused look.

"A letter." I deadpan, "Why on earth would I waste my time on something as stupid and sentimental as that?"

"Because Master Dick always has been a sentimental person." With that he walks out of the room, leaving me along with my thoughts. Something that has been happening _way_ too much. I don't like being alone. I feel like the assassin thoughts come back when I'm alone. Grayson never let me be alone, and when he did I was always allowed allowed to go see him if I wanted to. I was never truly alone.

I look over at my desk, and see that Pennyworth set up some paper and a few different writing tools before he left. I sigh, and walk over to it. As I sit down I wonder why I'm actually doing this. But when I see the picture of me and Grayson on my desk I smile and the reason is plain as day in my mind.

The picture was taken by Grayson himself during training. Him in his Batman costume and me in my Robin costume. Normally we aren't allowed to have anything connecting us to our night jobs in our bedrooms, but I don't have any friends who don't know who I am during the night that would be in my room. Anyone who would dare even enter knows who I am and that they're risking losing a body part by opening the door.

I take a deep breath, and pick up a red crayon.

 _Dear Grayson,_

 _Father has informed me of your intention_  
 _to abandon-_

What in the world!? Did I seriously just write that!?

 _-abandon-_ _resume your role as Nightwing_  
 _rather than remain with me-_

Why do I keep doing this? This is why I don't write letters! They bring out a weird feeling inside of me, and I don't like it. Grayson better appreciate this stupid piece of paper.

 _-with me-_ _as partners. Good_  
 _riddance, and take Drake with you._

 _Yours,_  
 _Damian W._

It's finally done. After an hour of sitting at my desk, my letter is ready to be sent. I just hope I crossed that weird stuff out well enough that Grayson can't tell what it says.

* * *

It's been an entire month since Grayson officially moved back to Bludhaven, and I do not miss him...If I keep saying that enough times will I eventually believe it?

I move my spoon around in my bowl to find that I'm not all that hungry, "Pennyworth, may I please be excused? I'm not very hungry at the moment. I think I just want to go lie down in my room for a little while."

"Very well, Master Damian. I will bring something up for you later." I nod, and go upstairs. I flop down on my bed, and stare up at the ceiling.

 _I wonder if Grayson got my letter?_

He never replied, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he did not receive it. Maybe I should write to him again, just to be sure that he received it.

I get up, and walk over to my desk. I look over my different writing utensils, and my eyes land on a blue crayon.

 _Maybe I used the wrong color last time._

Nightwing's costume is blue after all, so maybe if I use a blue crayon he will like the letter better...Hey, that rhymed...Oh no! I sound like Grayson!

I shake my head to get rid of any uncharacteristic thoughts, and begin to write.

 _Dear Grayson,_

 _You have not visited home_  
 _in some time._

Hmm, what to write next...Aha!

 _Alfred is quite worried, and wishes_  
 _to see you._

Perfect.

 _Please return to the estate. I will_  
 _allow you to stay in my quarters_  
 _if you wish._

That will do.

 _Yours,_  
 _Damian W._

* * *

"Damian?" I look up from my spot on the couch on the library to see Father standing before me.

"Yes, Father?"

"I was just wondering where you were. By any chance have you seen Tim?"

 _Translation: I wanted to make sure you didn't murder Drake._

Yes, Drake has been staying here for the past week to help Father with a case. Father actually...smiled...Why doesn't he ever do that around me?

"Yes, Drake is still alive."

"That's not what I said-"

"You didn't deny that's what you wanted." I say, standing up, "I'm not the same person I was before you left." I don't give him a chance to respond before I'm out the door.

I stomp my way to my bedroom and slam the door shut. I flop face down on my bed, throwing my book to the floor.

I wish Richard were here.

If he was then he would have most definitely been in the library with me and would have stood up to Father. We both knew he truly thought I had murdered Drake, and that I wouldn't say anything when he accused me...well nothing that I wanted to say, anyways.

I have to prove myself to Father. Richard already has. He and Father got into fights often, still do sometimes, and he's not afraid of speaking up to him. If I do that he might send me back to Mother. I don't want to live with her. _This_ is my home...or...it was before Richard left. Now...it just feels like a random house that I live in.

Richard would have immediately scolded Father for even _thinking_ I would do such a thing, and then he would have taken me elsewhere to take my mind off it. I smile as I imagine what fun things we would have done had he been there.

Perhaps we would have trained together; it's always fun training with Richard. Or maybe we would have watched a movie. Not that I would ever admit it to anyone, but I don't mind cuddling with Richard to do things such as watch movies, read books, or just if I'm cold...But at least the cold gives me an excuse.

I stare at the ceiling for what feels like forever, but when I look at the clock I see that it's only been about half an hour.

 _I wonder if Grayson ever got my letters._

It's been two weeks and he still hasn't responded. I'm starting to think he just hasn't received them. Yeah, that has to be it!

Standing up, I walk over and sit down at my desk. Perhaps I will use a green crayon this time.

 _Dear Grayson,_

How should I write this? I guess I should just start with the reason I'm writing this in the first place.

 _Are you receiving my letters?_  
 _You have not returned home as_  
 _I requested._

What to write next...

 _Please contact Alfred or_  
 _myself post haste._

 _Yours,_  
 _Damian W._

* * *

A sudden hit to my skull brings me out of my thoughts.

"What was that?" Father asks.

"I'm sorry, Father. I was lost in thought." I apologize, standing up.

"It's fine. We've been at this for a while now. Why don't you go shower, and then head to bed."

"Very well. Thank you, Father."

I walk away, but not without seeing the slightly disappointed look on Father's face. It's so hard to please him! Why can't he be more like Richard? At least _he_ smiled!

Sometimes it feels like he wishes I never became Robin in the first place. But that's what he gets for playing dead! Drake gets fired, and I become Robin. If he didn't want that to happen, then he should've just stayed here with us instead of going MIA.

Still, it bothers me that he obviously likes Drake better. He thinks Drake was a better Robin, and he does a lousy job of hiding it. I thought Batman was supposed to be good at hiding emotions?

I flop down on my bed, now in more comfortable clothes, and think back to the times when it was just me and Richard. The two of us were the perfect Dynamic Duo. We worked together way better than Father and I do.

He doesn't trust me. Not like Richard did. With Richard, he trusted me to do my job, to help out, to make sure he didn't get killed when he wasn't looking. But with Father...He's always watching out for himself. He doesn't let me help him, and it just feels like I'm always in the way. Like he would be much better off if I wasn't there at all.

I look at the clock, and see that I've been up here for about an hour already. Sighing, I walk over to my desk. It has been two weeks since my last letter, and still no reply. I get out a piece of paper and...perhaps a purple crayon this time.

I try to think of something to write, but I just can't. My brain is filled with a bunch of emotions, and I don't like it. I just want them to go away, I jusy want to be alone, I just want Father to trust me, I just want-...I just want Richard to come home...And so that's what I write.

 _Dear Grayson,_

 _Are you coming back home soon?_

 _Yours,_

 _Damian W._

 _P.S._  
 _I will allow Drake back if necessary._

At least I'm a little back to my normal self...Well enough that I was able to write that last bit to show that I'm not going completely soft...But If I'm willing to let Drake come back just so Richard will...Ugh! I don't even care anymore!

With that, I put it in an envelope, and go to bed.

* * *

It's been another month, and still nothing from Richard. I've seen him on the news both as Nightwing and as Dick Grayson. He's a cop and Bludhaven is apparently just as bad, if not worse, than Gotham in the crime department. He gets to be a crime fighter both day and night.

Lucky.

Father and I just got home from patrol, and I'm exhausted. We stopped two robberies, four muggings, and the Joker who, once again, escaped from Arkham. I'm starting to see Todd's reasoning for killing the lunatic, because that really might be the only way to stop him-

No! I can't think like that. Richard wouldn't like it, so I need to stop. I take a few practiced breaths before getting into bed and going to sleep.

 _"Grayson?"_

 _I look around the Batcave, and see Batman standing there._

 _"Father, have you seen-" the man turns around, "Grayson?"_

 _"Hey, Dami." he says with his usual smile. A smile I haven't seen in so long. It makes me smile right back._

 _The smile on his face becomes a scowl, and I realize that it is no longer Grayson behind the cowl._

 _Nightwing walks up from behind Father, and glares at me with a frown on his face. Smiles suit him way better._

 _"Damian, what were you thinking? You were being plain stupid tonight! Tim never would have made that mistake!" Father yells. I back away, and look to Grayson for some help._

 _"Damian, even Jason wouldn't have done that! You're a disgrace to the Robin name!" Father suddenly disppears just as Grayson walks away._

 _"No! Don't leave me! Grayson, please! I'm sorry!"_

I wake up with a gasp, and sit up quickly. I look around my room, and see it empty.

 _It was just a dream._

I put my arms around myself to find that I'm shaking. A drop of water lands on my bare arm, and I feel my face. There are tears. Stupid nightmares! Nightmares are a few of the rare times that I cry, but usually-...Usually Dick is there for me to go to. He would always calm me down, and then let me sleep with him. I don't know what it was, but something about him holding me made me feel safe. Like nothing could ever hurt me.

Wiping away the tears, I walk over to my desk. Grabbing a random crayon, red I believe, and a piece of paper, I begin to write.

 _Dear Grayson,_

 _I miss you._

No, I can't send him that...No matter how true it is.

 _-I miss you-_  
 _Please come home._

 _Love,_  
 _Damian_

I put the paper in an envelope, not caring that I probably could've crossed the first attempt out better, and lay it on the desk before going to Dick's room to sleep there for the night.

* * *

 _"Grayson!"_

I smile as I watch the video Dick recorded on his camera. A camera he seemed to have forgotten. I did not tell him that he forgot it, however, because sometimes, like right now, I need to hear his voice again. I need to see his face again. I need to hear him tell me everything's going to be alright, but sadly, that's not one of the things he recorded.

This particular video is me and Dick attempting to cook and Pennyworth was the one behind the camera. Dick decided to turn it into a cooking show and, although I'll admit that it was quite funny, I acted like I didn't like it. I obviously did, but I have a reputation to uphold.

I smile again as I watch me and Dick accidentally get covered from head to toe in flour. At the time I didn't think it was so funny, but now I can see why Dick was laughing. I miss that laugh.

I haven't heard from Dick in four months since he moved back to Bludhaven. No texts, no calls, no emails, no letters, no sightings of Nightwing on patrol...nothing.

I overheard Drake telling Father that he had worked with Dick on a case a few weeks ago, and that they had a really fun time while they were working on it. Father also replied that he saw him a few times while out on patrol. Drake even said that he had seen Dick with _Todd_ of all people a few times!

I went through Drake's phone, and I have found multiple texts from Dick, and I got the same result from Father's phone. Dick kept in contact with them...Even Pennyworth, who walked in on Father's and Drake's conversation, said that Dick had been to the cave a few times while Father and I were out on patrol.

Is he avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? A small drop of water drips onto the camera screen, but I make no move to wipe the tears from my face.

I don't know if I'm crying because I'm watching me and Dick having fun and I miss it, or if it's because I'm upset that he cared enough to keep in contact with the others and not me, or if...or if I just miss Dick.

It's the last one.

What did I do wrong? He never replied to my letters, and everyone has seen him except for me. Maybe Mother was right. They don't care about me. _He_ never cared about me. I thought that Dick had cared about me. He took me in when he could have just as easily sent me back to Mother, he fired Drake in order to make me Robin, he truly acted like he cared about me.

He would always keep me close at charity events, he would get mad if anyone even looked at me the wrong way, he would comfort me when I had nightmares...Why would he do all of that if he didn't care about me?

I put the camera down, and wipe my eyes as best I can as I make my way over to the desk. I get out my best crayon, making sure it's blue, and begin to write.

 _Dear Grayson,_

 _I would like to apologize if it is_  
 _something I have done to keep_  
 _you from returning home._

Even though I do not even know what it is that I did.

 _I promise I will no longer do that_  
 _thing, so please come home soon._  
 _I am using my best blue crayon as_  
 _I know this color to be your favorite._  
 _Please tell me if your favorite is_

I get out a second piece of paper and continue my letter on that one. This is the longest one I've written so far.

 _no longer blue and I will use another color._

What else should I write? I then remember a conversation Pennyworth and I had a while ago. It was either a few weeks ago or a few days ago. Right now I can't really concentrate on things like that.

 _"Has anything come for me in the mail, Pennyworth?"_

 _"No, Master Damian. Are you expecting something?"_

 _"I did as you suggested and wrote Grayson a letter. He still hasn't replied."_

 _"Perhaps you should draw a picture for him. You are an exceptional artist."_

 _"Maybe."_

I get out a few more colors, and begin on a small picture for Dick. I carefully draw out me in my Robin outfit, and a small white cat beside me.

 _Alfred said I should draw you_  
 _something. So I have. It is_  
 _myself. And a cat._

 _Love-_

No.

 _-Love- __Yours,_  
 _Damian_

 _P.S._  
 _(These are_ _rain_ _drops!)_

I add that last part as I see a few tear drop stains on the paper.

Sniffling I put both pieces of paper in an envelope, and get them ready to send out.

* * *

Dick walks through the front door to his apartment, and throws his mail on the coffee table before flopping into the sofa with a grunt.

He looks around his apartment, and feels...lonely.

He misses living with Damian.

He misses when Damian would wake him up really early for training, he misses when Damian would come to him when the boy had nightmares, he misses having movie nights, he misses cuddling up with him, he misses reading with him.

Dick misses Damian.

It's as simple as that. Nightwing is great and all, but he's a solo hero. Everyone knows that. Nightwing was the first Robin, and now he works solo, sometimes helping out the Bats. Batman is the one with a partner. Not him.

He wonders what his partner would be called if he had one. Flamebird? Renegade? Darkwing? Redwing? Robin- No. Robin isn't his partner anymore. Bruce is back, and, from what he's seen, he and Dami work well together.

Dick sighs, and runs his hand through his hair. He's about to go get changed into his Nightwing suit for patrol when something catches his eye.

He smiles as he sees the familliar writing of Damian Wayne on the front of an envelope. This is one thing Dick loves. He doesn't know why, but his little brother had started sending him letters. It's not something he would have guessed Dami would do, but he loves is.

He just wishes that he could see him again. He has gotten a chance to see Bruce, Alfred, Tim, and even Jason in the four months he's been back in Bludhaven, but never Damian.

Damian was off on his own the times he ran into Bruce, he was out on patrol when he saw Alfred, and when he worked with Tim and Jason they didn't want to be anywhere near him, so he never got the chance to. He never even gets a chance to just call or text anyone when it's not work related.

Normally the letters make him smile, but lately they've made him want to cry, run back to the manor, and pull his baby brother into a big hug. This one makes him want to do all of that and more. And not just because Damian was obviously crying while writing this, judging by the tear drops on the paper. Dick knows it's not rain.

He hadn't had the time to write Damian back, and he now knows that he really should have. He really doesn't have time now, but he doesn't care. He'll _make_ time. His baby brother needs him, and he'd be breaking his promise to Damian if he didn't at least try to help. After rummaging around he manages to find a piece of paper and a pen.

 _Damian,_

 _Sorry about this paper, it's all_  
 _I could find. I really like getting_  
 _your letters._

A tear makes it's from his eye as he remembers Dami's letters.

 _I can't come back yet-_

No, he doesn't even know if he is going back at all. He just...

 _-yet-_ _though. Bruce is Gotham's_  
 _Batman again, and I have things_  
 _to do here._

He hates this. He hates having to tell his little brother that he has more important things to do here than go see him.

 _I hope you're happy-_

No, he can't write that.

 _-happy-_ _safe._

Looking over the picture Damian drew, he smiles. He draws, or tries to since he's not a very good artist, a picture of him as Nightwing punching a bad guy in the face.

 _I liked your picture. Here's one_  
 _of me. Have you seen my new_  
 _uniform? I still like blue though._

Dick had read Damian's most recent letter over and over again before writing his own, and it still brings tears to his eyes just thinking that Damian thought that he had done something to make Dick not come home.

 _You didn't do anything wrong at_  
 _all. I just can't come home-_

'Is the manor even my home anymore?' he thinks.

 _-home-_ _back just yet though._

 _Take care,_  
 _Dick_

* * *

"Damian?"

I groan and turn over, pulling the covers up over my head.

"Five more minutes." I mumble trying my best to go back to sleep. My alarm hasn't even gone off yet, and Father should know not to wake me up this early.

He shakes me again, but it does not feel like Father. Well, it's not Pennyworth, and Drake knows better than to wake me up unless he wants a batarang in his arm.

"Come on, Dami, wake up."

 _Wait a second...Only one person ever calls me Dami...DICK!_

I quickly sit up, and see Dick's smiling face as he sits on my bed beside me.

"Dick!" I yell wrapping my arms around him. He pulls me onto his lap and I'm imediately wrapped in his protective embrace. I was having nightmares again last night and, to be honest, I'm still a little freaked out by them. This is exactly what I need right now. This is exactly _who_ I need right now.

"I've missed you."

* * *

 **That ending took me FOREVER to come up with. I tried to write it a few times, but it never turned out right. Then one day I was just like 'Hey, I got it!' and I wrote it! :D**

 **So, go ahead and review to tell me what you think! :)**


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